


Juliette Is The Sun

by MissCrazyWriter321



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, French Shakespeare, alternate season three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25316074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321
Summary: It’s not that he doesn’t know how she feels, of course. Not after everything. But to hear it is another thing entirely, especially said so matter-of-factly. He wants to say it back, but the words stick in his throat, and he can only stare.
Relationships: Sean Renard/Juliette Silverton
Kudos: 12





	Juliette Is The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how I got hooked on this ship, but here I am, and there's not nearly enough fic for is. I posted this on Tumblr awhile back, but I decided to go ahead and put it here as well. A couple of notes:
> 
> 1) This is set in an alternate Season Three, where Sean and Juliette are together and he takes her to Vienna with him. Specifically set after the events of 3x07.
> 
> 2) The French is just Sean quoting Shakespeare in French, but it’s translated at the bottom of the fic for convenience. 
> 
> 3) This was a response to a Tumblr prompt from Firesoulstuff: "Will you help me down the stairs?"

"Can you help me down the stairs?" 

He hears the question for what it is: an excuse for contact, for a reassuring touch. Not that he can blame her; the past 24 hours have been something out of a nightmare, even for him, and while she is holding up admirably, it’s clear that it’s starting to wear on her. (Their safehouse being raided, their fleeing through the sewers, and now a man dying-a traitor, one who nearly got them all killed, but Juliette still flinched when the shot rang out. He loves her tender heart, but wonders at it, all the same.)

Happy to indulge, he offers her his arm, pretending he does not notice the way her hands shake. Her fingers curl around his sleeve, clutching, clinging. 

She does not deserve these nightmares. Deserves far better than-

“Hey.” As always, lately, she seems to read his mind. “I’m glad I came.”

“I’m not.” Perhaps a bit blunt, but he cannot help it. “If something happens to you-”

“It won’t.”

Beautiful words. Meaningless words. “You can’t promise that.”

She exhales slowly as they reach the bottom of the staircase. “No, you’re right. I can’t. But…” She turns, releasing his arm to wrap hers around the back of his neck, fingers tracing lightly along his hair. “The man I love lives a dangerous life, and I want to share that life with him.  _ All  _ of it.” 

_ Love.  _ It’s not that he doesn’t know how she feels, of course. Not after everything. But to hear it is another thing entirely, especially said so matter-of-factly. He wants to say it back, but the words stick in his throat, and he can only stare. 

She does not seem to mind. Rising to her tiptoes, she brushes his lips with hers. He falls into it easily (perhaps she is not the only one that needs reassurance), arms coming to rest around her waist. It is a slow kiss, soft and tender, a reminder that they’re both still here. 

He pulls away, intent on telling her exactly how he feels, but the words won’t come. Ridiculously, all he can think of is a passage from a book. He hasn't read it in years, but somehow, it still slips easily from his lips.  _ “Mais doucement. Quelle lumière brille soudain à travers cette fenêtre? C'est l'Orient; Juliette est le soleil.”*  _ He keeps his voice low, nearly breathes the words against her ear, and she hums.

“I have no idea what that means,” she replies, matching his tone. Her eyes dance, just a hint of teasing there, and she pulls him back for another kiss. 

This one is longer, warmer. He loathes that she is in danger because of him, but he has to admit that this is nice. In the back of his mind, he knows this moment cannot last; the others will be back soon to check on them, if nothing else, and the last thing he wants to do is make enemies here. Still, he can indulge for just another second. 

In the end, she’s the one to break the kiss, with a breathless giggle. In spite of himself, his lips twitch in response.

“What?”

She releases him, looking him over. “You really… Really… Stink.”

The laugh slips from his mouth before he can stop it, and he shakes his head, pulling her back in. It’s no wonder-he has spent the day in the sewers, after all-but… “You’re not exactly a basket of flowers at the moment either, my dear.” 

She half-heartedly shoves him, before snuggling close, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” she mutters, breath warm against his neck.

“Oh?” 

“Whenever someone lets us use their shower, I call dibs on going first.” 

How does she do this? How can she stand here in the middle of a nightmare like this, and chase away the dark shadows curling around his throat? How can she-even for just a moment-make him forget about the horrible things he has done, and the horrible things that could happen to them both?

Belatedly, he realizes that she’s still waiting for a response, so he turns his head, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Whatever you want, love.” 

It is not quite a confession, but she draws back all the same, giving him a brilliant smile that eases every ache in his heart.

***

_ *But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. _

**Author's Note:**

> Too cheesy? Perhaps, but they deserve a little cheese in their lives. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
